Lost and Found Again
by pipermca
Summary: Bluestreak and Hound were together and then, as sometimes happens, they drifted apart. When they run into each other again aboard the Lost Light, it reminds them of how they met and how they got together.
1. Getting Lost Somewhere

**A/N:** This story was originally written as part of a 30-Day OTP Challenge. Eight of the little stories I wrote arranged themselves in a sort of "how they got together" thing, while the first and last story could be seen as a "bookend" of the story, explaining how they'd drifted apart over the years and then found each other again. So I pulled out those ten stories, cleaned them up a bit, and I am posting them here.

* * *

Chapter 1: Getting Lost Somewhere

Hound slowed, pausing at an intersection, before transforming into root mode. "Huh. I'm all turned around now." He watched as Bluestreak also transformed, and shrugged at the other mech. "I think I took a wrong turn someplace. That's a little embarrassing, considering how long I've been on board."

"That's ok, Hound," Bluestreak said. "It's not like I've seen any of this anyway. It's all new to me, so I don't mind seeing it."

Walking down to an information screen, Hound pressed a few sequences. "Oh yeah, I did take a wrong turn back there. That's why none of this looked right." He pointed down the hallway. "But while we're over here, I might as well show you the oil reservoir."

"Oil reservoir?" Bluestreak fell into step alongside the green mech. "I knew the _Lost Light_ was huge, but it has a whole oil reservoir inside it?"

Hound laughed, and Bluestreak suddenly realized how much he'd missed that sound. "Blue, this ship has entire **rooms** that none of us have even seen. I wouldn't be surprised if we stumbled on an amusement park at some point." He palmed open a large door. "Here we are."

Bluestreak made an awed noise as they walked into the oil reservoir. The inky blackness of the oil pool reflected the stars visible outside the large windows in the ceiling. "This is... Wow! This is amazing!" Bluestreak looked at the green mech, his optics gleaming in the darkness. "This would be a great place for a party. Or just to hang out."

Hound nodded, looking up at the stars. "Mechs do hang out in here sometimes, but Ultra Magus frowns on non-sanctioned parties in here after Swerve threw one that went a bit out of control." He walked down to the edge of the pool and sat down, patting the deck next to him. "But it's all right to just sit here quietly for a bit. I come in here sometimes to relax and think."

Bluestreak sat next to Hound and leaned back on his hands, looking up at the stars. "This reminds me of that mountain lake we found by accident that once, on Earth," he said. "That was really beautiful. The water was so calm, like the oil is here, and the stars looked almost the same."

"It was pretty, wasn't it?" Hound asked. He laughed softly. "We spent so long there that Prowl ended up sending Bee and Huffer to come find us." He shifted and his fingers brushed against Bluestreak's. "Sorry," he murmured, pulling his hand away.

"It's ok."

They sat in silence for a minute, looking up at the stars together.

Bluestreak turned slightly to look at the green mech. "Hound... What... What happened to us?"

After a pause, Hound shrugged. "I'm not sure. Different assignments. Too much time apart. Life, I guess." He looked back at Bluestreak, his field tinged with regret. "I think we just grew apart."

"Yeah. I guess makes sense." Bluestreak looked back over the surface of the oil. "I just hate how it seems to have happened without us noticing."

Hound said nothing, and just sat staring out over the reservoir.

Bluestreak kicked his pedes, brushing them against the surface of the oil. He watched the thick ripples for a moment. "Are you seeing anyone now?"

Hound shook his helm. "No." A pause. "You?"

"No." Bluestreak shifted slightly, and his fingers brushed against Hound's again. "Would it be too weird... Do you want to... I wouldn't mind if we..." Blowing out a vent of air, Bluestreak said, "I didn't join the crew because you were here. But if you wanted to try again, I wouldn't mind. Trying. Just to see." He glanced at Hound shyly. "You know, just to see if it was distance that made us grow apart, or if it was just that we didn't belong together anymore."

Hound looked directly at him and smiled. "I wouldn't mind giving it another try. I thought we had a good thing, you and me," he said. He curled his fingers around Bluestreak's. "And if it doesn't work out... This ship is big enough to lose sight of each other again."


	2. Patching Each Other Up

Chapter 2: Patching Each Other Up

A sudden, high-pitched whistle was all the warning they got before the missile struck.

The mountain road they were driving on suddenly vaporized beneath their wheels, and they found themselves falling through the air. Hound had been in front, and he slammed hard against a boulder on the way down, careening off to the side. Bluestreak transformed as he tumbled down the cliff face, clawing at the ground to slow himself as he landed on the slope beneath the road.

Bluestreak skidded to a stop against a large pine tree, and peered up through the canopy as his targeting computer came online. He could hear the seekers above him, circling back for another run. There were two of them; he caught a flash of blue and red through the trees.

"Gotcha," Bluestreak said softly. He powered up his shoulder missile launchers and tracked the incoming seekers, waiting for lock-on.

Tone.

He fired both missiles.

The thunder of two direct hits was music to his audials. One seeker was hit in a thruster, while the other was hit along the fuselage. Not enough to kill, unfortunately, but Bluestreak had probably done enough damage to discourage them from sticking around. He heard the engines fade into the distance and let his targeting computer go into standby.

Bluestreak looked around. He'd slid quite a ways down the hill, leaving a gouge in the dirt and a path of broken brush and trees.

"Hound!" Bluestreak couldn't see the green mech anywhere, but he knew he couldn't be too far away. "Hound?" he called again, then tried again using comms. He only received static in response. Frowning, he tried again, but quickly realized his signal was being blocked.

"Great," he muttered. The seekers had probably dropped a jamming device before they bugged out, which meant they were likely planning on coming back with help. He had to find Hound quickly.

The terrain was steep and thickly treed, which made it difficult for Bluestreak to move quickly. But it was only a few minutes before he found a few freshly-broken trees. He found Hound just downhill from the shattered trunks.

"Hound!" Bluestreak called, crashing his way through the remaining trees to the green Jeep. Hound was still in his alt-mode, and was flipped upside down onto his hood.

There was no response to Bluestreak's calls.

"Oh no. No, no, no." Running the last few meters, Bluestreak skidded into a crouch next to Hound's frame. "Hound?" Holding a hand against the four-by-four's chassis, he ran a quick scan.

Bluestreak exvented in relief. Hound was still alive; he was just offline.

He did a quick visual check of Hound's undercarriage, but couldn't see any obvious energon leaks. "Come on, Hound," Bluestreak said, pushing against the Jeep's side to flip him over. "Let's get you up. You look like a flipped turtle."

One good heave was enough to roll the Jeep right-side-up. Hound bounced a bit on his tires, and Bluestreak sat down next to him. The Praxian leaned against Hound's fender and thought for a minute. He could go look for the jamming device and disable it so that he could call for assistance. However, the devices were small, and it might take him hours to find it. Since he was pretty sure that the Decepticons would be returning and looking to finish the job, his only other option was to get out of range of the jammer.

"This is not a good situation, Hound," Bluestreak said, patting the Jeep's hood. The metal felt warm under his hand. At least it seemed like most of Hound's systems were running, even if he was unconscious.

Bluestreak heard something – the faint sound of an engine. He jumped to his pedes and flared his door wings, alert for any sign of seekers in the sky.

After a few moments he relaxed. It sounded more the engine of an Earth vehicle; perhaps a truck. Then Bluestreak's door wings perked up. If there was a truck, there was probably a road!

Bluestreak brought up a map of the area and saw that there was another road nearby, only about 250 meters downhill from them. His best bet was to get them both down to the road, and then use the road to get out of range of the jamming device. Most of the Decepticon jammers only had a range of about a kilometer.

Bluestreak frowned at Hound's alt mode and the heavily treed terrain. "This would be a lot easier if I was the one disabled and you were the one who had to tow me out," he muttered to Hound's unresponsive alt-mode. "But, I guess you have to work with what you have!" He stood up and grabbed Hound's front bumper.

It was slow going. He pulled Hound's down the hill using the green mech's bumper, shoving through the brush, until he reached a fallen tree or boulder that blocked the way. Then he heaved the dead weight of the four-by-four over the obstacle.

After the fifth or sixth time that Bluestreak put Hound back on the ground, he heard a static-filled groan. "Blue?" Hound said faintly.

"Hound!" Bluestreak sat on the ground next to the four-by-four. "Are you ok? You were offline for about half an hour there. Can you transform? The 'Cons' put down a jammer somewhere. We've got to get down this hill so I can call for help, and you are really awkward to carry in your alt mode."

Hound spat out another staticky burst. Bluestreak heard his transformation sequence start… And then immediately stop. The green mech groaned in agony. "Primus, that hurt! No. Something's busted. I've got error messages like you wouldn't believe." He shifted slightly on his tires. "I can't drive either. I think I've got a busted axle or strut or something."

Bluestreak frowned. "Does it hurt when I pull you along on your tires?" he asked. He suddenly worried that he had been doing additional damage to Hound, dragging him along.

"I don't know. Try it?" Hound asked.

Bluestreak hadn't even pulled Hound a full meter before the green mech shouted, "Wait! Stop! Stop!"

Stopping immediately, Bluestreak said, "Slag. It hurts, doesn't it?" He knelt next to the Jeep and ran a hand over his hood. His door wings sagged. "I'm sorry. I probably was doing more damage to you earlier. I didn't know!"

"It's ok, Blue," Hound said. He settled lower on his tires. "Can you just leave me here and go get help?"

"No," Bluestreak said firmly. "The seekers that blew us off the cliff road will probably be coming back with reinforcements. I'm not leaving you here." He ran his hands gently over Hound's undercarriage, looking for better places to grip his chassis.

"I could project a hologram to – no, wait. My projector's offline." There was a pause while Hound thought. "Blue, I'll be fine. I should blend right in."

Bluestreak crouched down to lift the Jeep in his arms again. "Absolutely – oof! – not." With a groan, he stood, the cables in his arms and shoulders protesting the weight he was forcing them to carry. "I am not – hrgh! - leaving you behind."

So Bluestreak grunted and heaved the rest of the way down the hill, finally setting Hound down on the gravel road surface. Bluestreak dropped to his knees for a moment to let his ventilation systems catch up with the heat he'd been producing. "I'm just gonna… rest here a minute," he said.

Hound tried to activate his transformation sequence again before giving up with a moan of pain. "Really, Blue, just run to call for help and then come back. It won't take you long."

"No. You're even more vulnerable here on the road. You're easier to see. Plus, I got you all this way already!" He patted the four-by-four's fender. "I'm not leaving you here, especially when you can't move." Bluestreak took a step back and looked at the Jeep. "Besides, now that we're on a road, I have a plan."

It was not the best plan. It was certainly not a dignified plan. But it was a plan, and – to Bluestreak's own surprise – it worked.

First he moved Hound so that his front bumper was against a tree. Then, in his own alt mode, Bluestreak nudged his nose under Hound's rear tires, and slowly eased the Jeep up onto his roof.

It was awkward and ungainly, but after making sure that Hound was situated the most stable way possible, the Datsun crawled slowly down the road with the Jeep perched on his roof.

"Just don't – whoa! – don't take the corners too fast," said Hound, sitting as low on his suspension as he could. His wheel base was slightly wider than Bluestreak's roof, so his tires were mostly hanging off the sides of the Datsun.

"Don't worry, Hound," Bluestreak said, extremely conscious of the weight delicately balanced on his roof. He eased over a bump in the road. "I won't let you fall."


	3. Hospital Visits

Chapter 3: Hospital Visits

Hound stared up at the ceiling of the med bay. Aside from the light fixtures, it was orange and featureless.

While it might have been boring to look at, Hound was happy that he **could** actually look at it with his optics, and not just scan it with his sensors. After he and Bluestreak were retrieved by Skyfire and the rest of the extraction team, he had been stuck in his alt mode for several cycles until Ratchet was able to repair his transformation cog.

Previously, Hound had spent whole deca-cycles in his alt mode, usually while on a mission amongst humans that required him to blend in, but at least then he could move. This... This was different. Being stuck in his alt mode **and** being immobile was a special kind of torture, one that had fortunately been resolved a few days ago.

However, he was still immobile. Not because he couldn't move, but because Ratchet had told him he wasn't permitted to. Something about allowing the internal damage to finish repairing before jostling it on rough roads. Unlike the twins or Jazz, though, Hound was content to listen to the medic's orders. Following Ratchet's orders meant that he'd heal faster, and be able to get back to work sooner.

And getting back to work meant getting back outdoors.

Hound exvented. He'd had no lack of visitors, anyway. It seemed like everyone on the Ark had dropped by to say hello at some point. It was a little humbling, knowing that his presence was missed that much in the rec room or out on patrol. He appreciated every single visitor. But one visitor had come in more often than anyone else.

"Hi, Hound!" Bluestreak's cheery voice jarred Hound out of his study of the med bay's ceiling.

Hound smiled at the gunner. "Hi, Bluestreak! Did you just get in?"

Bluestreak pulled up a chair next to Hound and sat down. "Yeah, I got in a little while ago. They paired me up with Bumblebee for patrol today, and we just finished filing our report. Nothing much to it today. We didn't see any Decepticon activity, but you should see the trees! They've all changed colour, and they're so much more vibrant than they were last year. Sparkplug said it's probably because of the weather we had this year; I guess it affects how bright the colours of the leaves are. There's supposed to be a storm in a few days, so I hope you get cleared to leave med bay before then because if it's windy, most of the leaves will fall and you'll miss it. I know you'd want to see them, so I took a few pictures for you…"

Hound smiled at the Praxian and let his words wash over him. He did regret not being able to get outside, especially after hearing how colourful the trees were, but Bluestreak's description was almost as good as seeing it in person. He listened intently as Bluestreak described the scenery, watching the Praxian's door wings bob around to emphasize his words.

"Hey, I almost forgot!" Bluestreak fished a data pad out of his subspace and handed it to Hound. "Spike was telling me about a TV show, and I knew it was something you'd be interested in. So I had Teletraan load the whole series onto a data pad for you to watch while you're stuck in here."

Hound took the data pad curiously and opened the first file. "The Living Planet?" he asked when he saw the title of the show.

"Yeah. It's twelve episodes, and each one looks at life on Earth in a different environment." Bluestreak leaned over Hound and tapped through the episodes. "See… Forests… The poles… Deserts… Jungles… I didn't even know there were so many different environments on the planet. We've only seen a few of these, and humans live in just a few as well. It's so neat! Did you know that there are some animals that live only on a single little island and nowhere else? Oh, and the human who narrates the show has a really relaxing voice. I thought you might appreciate that after listening to Ratchet all the time while you're in here."

"I heard that!" Ratchet called from the other side of the med bay. Bluestreak ducked his helm and then grinned at Hound conspiratorially, flicking his door wings.

Skimming through the episode titles, Hound smiled and looked up at Bluestreak. "Thanks, Blue. This is really thoughtful."

"I wish I could visit you more often," Bluestreak said, grabbing Hound's free hand. He gave it a quick squeeze. "I miss being out on patrol with you."

"I miss it too, Blue," Hound said, returning the squeeze. He noticed the little flutter of Bluestreak's door wings, and gave the gunner a smile. "Don't worry. I'll be up and back on my wheels again soon enough."


	4. Scar Worship

Chapter 4: Scar Worship

It was Hound's first shift after he had been cleared for light duty, and he had been assigned to the watch post on top of the Ark.

While Hound would normally have preferred to be out driving with dirt under his tires, watch duty suited him just fine for the moment. He had been paired with Bluestreak for the shift, and they both sat holding their rifles, scanning the surrounding terrain for trouble.

The colours had faded from the trees slightly compared to the photos that Bluestreak had shown him earlier, but there were still enough different shades of reds and oranges and yellows to thrill Hound. There was nothing like this on Cybertron - nothing showing the progression of the seasons through colour.

Slag, there weren't even seasons on Cybertron.

Hound glanced at the gunner and saw that he was looking at Hound's side. Bluestreak's optics flicked up and he ducked his helm as if embarrassed he was caught staring.

"Sorry," Bluestreak murmured. He looked up and saw Hound's smile, and he sat up straighter. "I was just looking at your... um, at the weld on your side." His optics looked down again. "I knew Ratchet had to repair your transformation cog, but that seems like a really big weld. Sunstreaker's cog had to get repaired last year when he got thrown by Bruticus, and I don't think his weld was that... big." Bluestreak looked back up to meet Hound's gaze.

Hound twisted so he could look down at the weld on his frame, and his fingers automatically traced its length. It **was** a pretty large weld, which was probably one of the reasons Ratchet wanted him to take it easy for a while. "Well, Sunstreaker's a lot bigger than me, so maybe a weld the same length would just look larger on my frame," Hound said with a shrug. "But I'm just guessing. Maybe my cog is larger than his? I have no idea."

Bluestreak's door wings flicked a few times, then he exvented. "Or, maybe, there was more damage to repair, and Ratchet and First Aid needed more space to work." He frowned. "I know that I probably damaged you more that you already were while I was dragging you, before you came back online." His door wings sagged slightly and he looked away. "I'm sorry."

"Hey!" Hound reached over and put his hand on Bluestreak's arm, causing the Praxian to look up in surprise. "You did what you thought was right, getting me out of a dangerous situation. I am not going to second-guess your thought process. We all have to make split-second decisions sometimes, and I probably would have made the same decisions you did in that situation." He smiled encouragingly at the other mech.

Bluestreak looked up at him shyly and smiled. "Thanks, Hound," he said quietly. "I... I've been thinking a lot about what happened, especially after I found out how badly you were hurt. I worried that I might have done something wrong. Prowl said I did the right thing. But..." He put his other hand on top of Hound's. "Hearing that you're not upset means a lot to me." His door wings fluttered behind him slightly.

Hound felt his spark flutter along with Bluestreak's wings. "If I didn't say so already, thank you for getting me out of there safely." He pulled his hand back, very aware of how much the slight contact between him and Bluestreak was affecting him. Bluestreak's optics met his evenly, and Hound felt a slight flush rise to his face. He looked back out over the forest, and gripped his rifle with both hands again. "And thank you for a most interesting ride out of there. Although... I think I'll be fine if I never have to ride on your roof in my alt mode ever again," he said with a chuckle.

Bluestreak laughed, tipping his door wings upwards. Hound smiled at the delighted sound coming from the mech. "Yeah, that was pretty awkward, wasn't it? My alt mode wasn't made for towing anything, never mind carrying anything. I think Ratchet wanted to give me an audial-full because of all the dents he had to pull out of my roof, but Prowl wouldn't let him."

"Dents?" Hound frowned. Bluestreak hadn't mentioned anything about getting dents from carrying him.

"Nothing serious," Bluestreak said with a shrug. He glanced at Hound again. "Ratchet tried to make me promise not to try carrying anyone like that again." He looked back over the valley. "I said that I couldn't make that promise, because who knows what's going to happen tomorrow, right?" With a little grin playing on his lips, he added, "And that's how I got the dent in my helm."


	5. Sleeping In

Chapter 5: Sleeping In

It was still very early. But 'very early' was the perfect time to grab some energon from the mess hall and get it to Prowl, before the mech got too involved in his work.

Jazz walked past the door to the rec room, paused, and then took two steps back, peering through the doorway.

The lights were off, but the television set was on. There was a test pattern on the screen, and no sound came from the set's speakers.

Shaking his helm, Jazz detoured into the rec room with the intention of turning off the set. He would have to send around yet **another** reminder that when mechs were done watching the television, they were supposed to turn it off. Last time, it was the Protectobots who had stayed up late watching a _Herbie the Love Bug_ marathon, and they just left the set on when they were done.

But as he approached the corner where all the chairs and couches had been arranged around the television, he saw the tip of a door wing poking above the back of the largest, plushiest couch. Jazz crept forward and peered over the edge of the couch.

Hound was slouched down in the cushions of the couch. His helm was rocked back, his optics were closed, and his mouth hung open. Curled up at his side, his helm in Hound's lap, was Bluestreak. One of Hound's hands rested on Bluestreak's waist.

Both mechs were deep in recharge.

 _Well, well_ , Jazz thought. The two mechs had been dancing around each other for months... Ever since they'd had that run-in with the two seekers in the mountains. Jazz figured all Hound and Bluestreak needed were a few well-placed nudges to see that they were both interested in each other.

And Jazz knew what he could do to give one of those nudges.

Smiling, Jazz stealthily came around the couch and turned the television set off. Then he retreated from the room, closing the door silently behind him.

::Hey, Prowler.:: Jazz knew the tactician was up, since he'd been gone already when Jazz had come out of recharge. ::What duty shifts are Bluestreak and Hound scheduled for today?::

Prowl responded immediately. ::Hound has the day off. Bluestreak has patrol at 1300 local. Why?::

 _Perfect_ , Jazz thought. He made sure to tag his reply with a glyph of innocence. ::Just wonderin'! Thanks!:: He closed the comm link before Prowl could reply, then opened a second link to another officer he knew was always awake at this hour.

::Hey, Red! Can ya do me a favour? Can ya keep mechs outta the rec room until 1100 local? If anyone asks just say it's for maintenance.::

Jazz could practically hear Red Alert's frown over the comm. ::Why? I see that Hound and Bluestreak are in there.::

Jazz gave the most innocent and truthful response he could think of. He knew that Red Alert would figure it out sooner or later anyway, just like Prowl would, but there was no reason to tip his hand so soon. ::Ya. They're both out hard, and I wanna give them some more time to recharge without bein' disturbed. Please, Red? I promise to tell ya the next time I hear about the twins settin' up for a prank!::

Red Alert's response carried a glyph of reluctance, but Jazz smiled when he received it. ::All right. Fine. Just this once.::

Jazz heard the door lock, and he grinned. Success! Jazz carried on down the hallway, quietly singing a snippet of a tune he'd heard on the humans' radio the day before.

 _Wake me up before you go go,  
'Cause I'm not planning on going solo.  
Wake me up before you go go,  
Take me dancing tonight._

* * *

Bluestreak was pleasantly warm. He snuggled down into the soft surface he was laying on, his hands curled up against his chest.

The pillow under his helm moved slightly.

"Nooo…" Bluestreak mumbled, his hand coming up to readjust the pillow. His hand slid along warm metal, and he opened his optics blearily. "What…?"

"Good morning, Blue."

Rolling his helm, Bluestreak looked up. Hound's cheerful optics looked down at him. "…Good morning," Bluestreak replied, his tone thick with confusion. He struggled to sit up, and looked around the darkened room. "Did we... I guess we fell into recharge watching the movie last night." Checking his chronometer, he frowned. "It's so late. Are we the only ones in here? Why didn't anyone wake us up?" he asked.

Hound jerked a thumb back towards the door of the rec room. "The door's closed. I woke up a few kliks ago, and Red Alert commed me. He said we had until 1100 local before he let anyone in." Lifting his helm slightly, Hound said, "Teletraan, rec room lights at 50%, please." The lights flickered on and rose to the requested brightness.

Bluestreak lifted his door wings slightly. "Why did Red keep everyone out? I mean, I'm not complaining," he said, stretching to work a kink out of one of his neck cables. "I think that was the best recharge I've gotten in a while, curled up next to you." Hound's optics brightened slightly, and Bluestreak froze, suddenly realizing what he'd said. "Err, that is... You make a really nice pillow?" He snapped his mouth shut to prevent himself from digging the hole any deeper.

"I didn't mind being your pillow, Blue," Hound said with a smile. "Last night was fun. It was nice just to hang out here, to relax and watch some movies, even after everyone else decided to go back to their quarters."

Latching on to the topic of the movies, Bluestreak said, "That **was** fun! And I'm glad that Spike explained to me that the 'Saturday Night Creature Feature' wasn't a wildlife documentary. Although, you'd probably like that," he added, his door wings tipping down for a moment. "I don't think Groove knew what to make of the first movie, though."

Hound laughed. "Yeah. He said he was going to ask Grimlock whether he'd ever met Mechagodzilla. Did he miss the beginning of the movie? Because he seemed to think it was a news broadcast."

Bluestreak's spark spun happily at the sound of Hound's laughter. It sounded just like how Hound acted: friendly, kind, and cheerful. "Yeah, I think he came in late. That might explain his confusion." He paused. "What was the next movie after that one? Something about a bomb..."

"It was _The Beast of Yucca Flats_ ," Hound said. "It was terrible."

His wings dipping again, Bluestreak said, "I must have fallen into recharge during that one. I hardly remember anything about it."

"Yeah, you barely lasted past the first two scenes," Hound said. With an effort, he heaved himself out of the soft couch cushions, and stretched once he got to his pedes. "You really didn't miss much. It was hard to follow, and barely made sense. I don't think radiation really works like that on humans."

Bluestreak watched the Jeep as he stretched and flared his plating, catching sight of cables and wires between the gaps in his armor that were normally hidden. He looked away before Hound could notice him staring, and stood up next to the green mech. "I'm sorry I fell into recharge and missed it, anyway. And... I'm sorry for falling into recharge on you. You could have woken me up to get me to move so you could go back to your own berth," Bluestreak said. He turned and began refluffing the cushions where they had been sitting, so as to avoid meeting Hound's optics.

"I didn't mind, Blue," Hound said. Bluestreak glanced up and saw Hound smiling at him. "I was fine where I was, and you looked so comfortable. It seemed a shame to wake you up. And besides," he said, looking around the empty rec room. "I think I probably recharged longer here than I would have in my quarters. Trailbreaker had a shift early this morning, and he would have woken me up on his way out. I don't think he's capable of being quiet."

"Still... I wonder why they let us recharge so late in the morning," Bluestreak wondered out loud. "Why did Red Alert keep everyone out so they wouldn't wake us up?"

Hound shrugged and then smiled again. "I don't know. But I'm not going to look a souvenir pony in the intake."


	6. Geeking Out Over Something

Chapter 6: Geeking Out Over Something

Jazz was on his way to the rec room when his comm pinged. ::Jazz, please report to my office immediately.::

Whirling on his heel, Jazz made a turn at the next hallway of the Ark. ::On my way, Prowler. What's up?::

::It's Prowl. And we'll discuss it when you get here.::

 _Ruh roh_ , Jazz thought. That meant he was in trouble. He tried to think of all the things Prowl could possibly be mad at him for, and quickly came up with at least thirty-two items. And that didn't even count the things that Prowl couldn't possibly know about. Yet.

When he reached Prowl's office, he plastered his most innocent smile on his face and strolled through the open door. "A'ight, I'm here," he said, falling into the chair across from Prowl. "What did I do?"

Prowl looked up from a data pad. "You changed the duty roster for this evening without speaking to me first."

Jazz relaxed slightly once he understood what Prowl was upset about. At least this wasn't about the two thousand yards of plastic cling wrap Jazz had requisitioned for the twins. Jazz wasn't ready to have that conversation just yet. "Yeah, it was just a minor tweak, and Bee agreed to the swap."

Putting down the data pad, Prowl looked at Jazz intently. "The duty roster is carefully arranged for maximum efficiency. Bumblebee may have agreed to swap shifts with Bluestreak, but now he will be short on energy tomorrow morning because his recharge cycles will have been disrupted. This will detrimentally affect his productivity."

Doing his best to look contrite, Jazz hung his helm. "Ah, right. I didn't think of that, Prowl. I just know that Blue **really** wanted tonight free, and he asked Bee if he was willin' to swap shifts before even comin' to me." Jazz looked back up at Prowl and held out his hands. "At first I was gonna tell Blue to just go talk to you, but then he made that face... You know, the one where his optics get all big and round?" Jazz tried to imitate Bluestreak's face but realized the effect was probably ruined by his visor. "Anyways, I couldn't say no."

Prowl's face was an unreadable mask. "It is quite easy to say no. You just say it like this: **No**." Prowl carefully enunciated the word.

"Now, see, that's why he came to me instead of talkin' to you," Jazz said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms under his bumper. "You would just say no without even findin' out **why** he wanted the night off."

Flicking his door wings, Prowl frowned. "I am always willing to discuss duty assignments with anyone who asks," he said. "If someone has a good reason for why they want to switch a shift, I am willing to make that adjustment for them." When Jazz's expression remained unchanged, he exvented and asked, "Fine. **Why** did he want the shift change?"

"He wanted to go to a movie," Jazz said.

"A movie?" Prowl's frown deepened. Ever since Sparkplug had gotten the Autobots passes for the nearby drive-in theatre, there had been a steady stream of mechs going out in the evening to see whatever was playing that night. "He has evenings off the whole rest of this week. Surely he could just have gone some other night," Prowl said.

"He really wanted to go with someone in particular, **tonight** ," Jazz said, his arms still crossed. A little smile played across Jazz's lips as he saw the tactician's processor add that bit of information into his database and reach a conclusion.

Prowl's door wings tipped up fractionally as he realized who else had already been scheduled for tonight off. "Oh. So. I see," he said slowly. He exvented softly. "I suppose I really should start paying more attention to who is partnering up with whom."

Jazz cheered silently. Prowl's own social protocols might have been slightly underpowered, but even he understood how important interpersonal relationships were to crew morale. "I'd be happy to fill you in on all the scuttlebutt, Prowl," he said.

"I'd appreciate that, Jazz," Prowl said, one door wing inclining in Jazz's direction. He shook his helm and added, "But going forward, please do not alter the duty roster without informing me first."

Jazz nodded and grinned, knowing by Prowl's tone that all was forgiven, if not forgotten. "Sure thing, Prowler." Standing to go, he added, "Say, Ironhide's hosting another Monopoly tournament tonight in the rec room. Did ya want to go? We made a pretty dangerous team last time."

"Tempting, but no," Prowl said, giving his door wings another flick. "There's something I need to do."

* * *

"That movie was the best!" Bluestreak exclaimed, weaving back and forth in his lane on the road leading towards the Ark. He had behaved himself while on the public highway, but now that they were getting close to the ship Bluestreak felt comfortable driving a bit more like… well, more like himself. He sped up, then pulled a handbrake turn to spin around back towards Hound. The Jeep slowed down, and Bluestreak spun in another happy circle around him.

As Bluestreak pulled alongside him again, Hound laughed. "It was pretty fun," he agreed. "I'm glad we happened to have the evening off together so we could both go. I don't think I understood all the jokes – I think I'm going to have to ask Spike why we heard people laugh when Marty's mom started calling him Calvin – but otherwise it was really good."

"And that car was so cool! I kind of wish Teletraan had reformatted me as a Delorean!" Bluestreak said, skipping forward with a little peal of his tires before falling back to Hound's side. "I've never seen an Earth car with thrusters like that! It looked so neat."

Hound made a little sound of uncertainty. "I don't think real Deloreans have those thrusters," he said. "I think that was supposed to be part of the time machine."

"Oh. Well, still. That was a great-looking car," Bluestreak said. He weaved back and forth in his lane again, thinking. "Say, remember last year when Spike asked us what we were all dressing up as for that holiday in the fall? And we'd never heard of it, but it sounded like a great idea, but it was way too late for us to come up with good costumes for it?"

"You mean Halloween?" Hound asked.

"Yeah! That one!" Bluestreak slowed down slightly, rocking on his tires in excitement. "What if this year I got Wheeljack to help me make some fake thrusters, and some wires and tubing and stuff for my sides, to make me look like the time machine from the movie? I'm almost the same shape and colour as the Delorean. I'll bet I'd look exactly like the time machine!"

Hound laughed. "You're right. You'd probably look just like it with a little bit of work."

"I wish there was a Jeep or something like it in the movie," Bluestreak said, slowing even more. "It would have been fun if we could have dressed up together. Um. If you wanted to," he added hastily.

"That sounds like fun, actually. I'd love to have coordinating costumes." Hound slowed as well so he could continue driving alongside Bluestreak. "And... I don't need an elaborate costume. After all, I could just do this."

Hound's form shimmered and was suddenly replaced by a baby blue VW Bus. A human holding a machine gun rose from the vehicle's sunroof and yelled in Hound's voice, "Drive, you stinking time machine! I'll catch you!"

Laughing hysterically, Bluestreak spun in another circle around Hound. His tires squealed as he came around the front of the Bus. "Let's see if you bastards can do ninety!" he called before zooming off down the road.

The two vehicles careened up the road towards the Ark, weaving around each other and laughing. As they sighted the Ark in the distance, though, they saw flashing lights on the road in front of them. Bluestreak slowed down. "Oh, scrap," he said.

"I wonder what he wants," Hound wondered, and let his hologram flicker out.

The two vehicles slowed to a crawl as they pulled up next to the police car that was parked sideways, blocking the road. Prowl transformed into root mode. "Bluestreak. Hound."

Bluestreak and Hound also transformed and walked the few meters to stand in front of Prowl. "Hi, Prowl. Sir," Bluestreak said, his door wings tipping upwards in greeting. "What are you doing out here so late? Was there some kind of trouble?" he asked.

"No, not specifically," Prowl said. He looked evenly at Bluestreak. "Jazz told me that you asked him for a shift change for tonight instead of coming directly to me."

Hound's engine coughed slightly.

Bluestreak's door wings fell, and he cast a sidelong glance at Hound before looking back up at Prowl. His face plates felt hot. "Um, yeah, well, you're always busy and Jazz was right there after I talked to Bumblebee and he said it was fine, so I didn't think I'd have to talk to you." Bluestreak could feel Hound looking at him. "Um. Sorry?"

Prowl's gaze shifted from Bluestreak to Hound, and then back again. A very slight smile crossed his lips. "If you want, I could schedule an evening off for both of you together once a week. That way you will not have to trade shifts with anyone to spend time together."

His door wings sagging even more in mortification, Bluestreak wished fervently that the ground would open up beneath him and just swallow him. He had told Hound that he'd just **happened** to have tonight off, not that he'd begged Bumblebee to take his shift so he could spend some time with Hound. He didn't want Hound to think it was a date, even though Bluestreak wanted it to be a date, but not that Hound was supposed to know that, and oh Primus, would Hound ever even speak to him now? Bluestreak knew that Hound was probably rolling his optics at how awkward this all was, wondering why Bluestreak would ever think that Hound would ever be interested in him, and...

"That would be really nice, sir. Thanks." Bluestreak's wings stiffened in surprise. He turned and stared at Hound, his optics wide. The green mech was smiling at Prowl, then glanced at Bluestreak, his smile widening. "I think we'd both appreciate some extra time together, if it's possible."

Prowl nodded curtly, and inclined his door wings towards them. "Fine. I'll see what I can do. Enjoy the rest of your night." He turned, transformed, and drove off towards the lights of the Ark.

Bluestreak stared after Prowl, then looked at Hound. The green mech chuckled and shook his helm. "You didn't tell me you had to switch your shift to go see the movie," he said.

"Um." Bluestreak lifted his wings slightly as he tried to think how to explain this. "Yeah, well, I saw that you were scheduled for evenings all the rest of this week, and that movie would only be playing here for another week, so it just seemed to make more sense for me to change my shift." He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. "I didn't think it was important to explain all that to you, I guess. And..." Bluestreak pulled a long vent cycle. "I really wanted to see the movie with you," he added.

"Well, like I said earlier, I had fun tonight," Hound said. "And I'm very glad you asked me to go with you."

Lifting his wings back even with his shoulders, Bluestreak stared at Hound for a long moment. Then he grinned. "Oh. Good! I mean, that's great! I'm glad we could both go."

"Now," Hound said, casually taking Bluestreak's hand in his and ignoring how Bluestreak's door wings shot up over his shoulders. "Let's go ask Wheeljack about making those 'time machine thrusters' for your costume."

Dazed, Bluestreak nodded and began walking towards the Ark, hand in hand with Hound. He gently squeezed Hound's hand, and the green mech returned the gesture, running his thumb in circles on the back of Bluestreak's hand.

Bluestreak's door wings fluttered behind him happily.


	7. Washing Something

Chapter 7: Washing Something

Hound looked down at the tiny plastic card in Bluestreak's fingers, then looked up at the Praxian's beaming face. "You want to take me to a... a car wash?" he asked faintly.

"Yeah! It's lots of fun, and sort of relaxing. The twins first took me there for detailing a while ago, and I wasn't sure about it at first either, but it was really nice being pampered like that. I mean, it's a little weird at first, since it's something you can sort of do yourself, but they can get into all the seams and crevices that we need the picks and mini brushes for. And all you have to do is sit there and relax, and they actually like doing it. Or they say they do, anyway. They said we're a lot more fun to work on than regular vehicles." Bluestreak paused to take a deep vent, his door wings fluttering behind him in his excitement. "I've been thinking about taking you there for a while, and Sunstreaker finally agreed to let me use his pass. I've been meaning to get my own pass but just haven't gotten around to it." He smiled at Hound, radiating enthusiasm. "If you like it, I'll get my own for sure and we can make this a regular thing!"

Trying to suppress the frown that he could feel quivering on his lips, Hound looked at the card again, then back up at Bluestreak. He could find no suggestion in Bluestreak's expression that this was anything other than him wanting to do something nice for Hound.

Hound knew he wasn't the cleanest Autobot. After all, it came with the territory... Literally. Hound was sent to scout in very rough terrain where the other, sportier vehicles would have trouble driving. There was a reason he and Trailbreaker had been given quarters together, since the amount of dust and mud they tracked in after a trip would have annoyed other mechs. And even when he hit the wash rack right after returning, he mostly just made sure to clean himself up enough so that he wouldn't leave a trail behind him, or dirty up the chairs and couches in the rec room. After all, he would likely just be getting muddy all over again the next shift, so why spend hours working all the little specs of dirt out from under his plating?

It had become a bit of a joke, one that Hound bore with as much good nature as he could muster. Some things happened so frequently they had stopped bothering him, like someone asking if he'd found any good mud puddles lately, or making a show of brushing off a chair after Hound got up from it. But sometimes the reactions sunk their barbs into him, like the looks of feigned surprise when he was seen stepping out of the wash rack, or the subtle steps backwards when he walked past someone before rinsing off the mud.

He was a dirty mech. That was his reputation, and he'd come to accept it as part of how he was seen. But the suggestion that Bluestreak might also see him that way cut straight to his spark.

A little part of him thought that Bluestreak deserved more than a mech who was always filthy.

The pass in Bluestreak's hand could mean that the adorable Praxian thought he was dirty, and wanted to clean him up before spending any more time with him, or before getting more intimate with him.

Or... Maybe...

Hound looked into Bluestreak's optics, and could only see a mech who genuinely liked him for who he was, and just wanted to do something special with him.

With a tiny smile, Hound said, "That does sound like fun, Blue. When did you want to go?"

Bluestreak bounced on his pedes and started talking.

"I made the reservation for 1500 local. Their detailing department gets really busy in the morning, but if you go in the afternoon they can spend more time on you. That's what Sunstreaker said, anyway. He also said to ask for James and Mateo, so that's what I did. I had James last time, and he was great! He's super friendly. He's going to work on you. Anyway, here we are!"

Hound had let Bluestreak talk away as they drove to the car wash. He was still not really sure what to expect, and had spent extra time this morning in the wash rack just so the humans didn't think he was trying to take advantage of them. Or was that a thing he should even worry about? It **was** a car wash after all; surely they got really dirty cars sometimes.

Didn't they?

He had no idea. Hound knew it was probably silly to worry about it, but he couldn't stop the thoughts from ricocheting around in his processor.

Bluestreak followed a driveway around the back of the car wash to a garage door. A sign over the door read "Appointments" in English. He beeped his horn twice, and after a moment the door opened.

Hound pulled into the building behind Bluestreak, where a human directed them to wash bays that were side by side. "Hi, Bluestreak," said one of the humans, flipping a towel over his shoulder. "It's been a while!"

"I know! I'm sorry. We've been so busy with – well, Autobot stuff. I can't talk a lot about it. But ever since Sunstreaker brought me here I've been wanting to come back. You did such a great job last time. Oh! And this is Hound. Hound, this is James!" Bluestreak rocked on his tires slightly.

The human walked up to Hound and looked him over carefully. "Nice to meet you, Hound. We don't get many Jeeps in for detailing, but I'll make sure we do a good job on you." He walked around Hound and asked, "Do you have a top? And if not, do you mind water on your interior?" He peered into the passenger area of Hound's alt mode, scanning the dashboard and console.

"No top. Water inside is fine," Hound said abruptly. At a worried ping from Bluestreak, he added, "Sorry. I've never been... detailed? ... before, so I don't know what to expect. I'm a little nervous." He struggled not to settle lower on his suspension in embarrassment.

James smiled. "There's nothing to worry about, Hound. I'll explain what we're doing, and if you have any questions, just ask. Before I start, are there any sensitive parts I should watch out for? I know those two Lamborghinis are a little touchy about their spoilers, for example, and Bluestreak here told us to be gentle with his headlights."

 _Oh, really? His headlights?_ Hound filed that tidbit of information away for later use. "No, nothing comes to mind. I'm pretty rugged," he said.

"I can see that," James said cheerfully, rapping his knuckles lightly on Hound's hood. "All right, then, I'm going to start you off with a nice sudsy wash. Would you prefer bubble gum or orange scented soap?"

Hound could tell that it was starting to get dark outside by the time James was finishing up, but he didn't care. He felt so relaxed that he had to struggle a few times to not fall into recharge.

"That should do it," James said, turning off the polisher and standing back to admire his work. "You sure had a lot of grit under your panels, but I think I got most of it out. And your finish looks spectacular."

There was a mirror set up at the end of the wash bay (which had apparently been requested by Tracks), and Hound looked himself over in amazement. "If I didn't know better, I would have thought you repainted me," he said.

James leaned against the wall, admiring his work. "I went with a matte polish at the end, since you didn't seem to have the same kind of finish that most of the other Autobots have. Probably for some of that rough driving you were telling me about." He turned when he heard the purr of another engine. "Looks like Mateo's done with Bluestreak, too."

Hound could not help running his sensors over Bluestreak as he backed out of his wash bay. The Datsun practically gleamed in the lights of the bay. "Wow, you look fantastic, Hound!" Bluestreak said, rolling to a stop next to the Jeep.

"You... look really good, too, Blue," Hound said, still taking in the shine of Bluestreak's finish. His sensors kept drifting back to Bluestreak as the Praxian settled the bill and they left the car wash. Even the glow of Bluestreak's tail lights seemed brighter as they cruised towards the Ark, careful to avoid kicking up dust on the road leading to the ship.

After several minutes of listening to Bluestreak's chatter and watching his rear end weave back and forth in front of him, Hound slowed down and said, "Blue… Let's walk the rest of the way, ok?" He stopped and transformed into root mode.

Bluestreak rolled to a stop and transformed as well, his helm tilted and his door wings canted slightly downwards. "Sure, we can walk from here," Bluestreak said. He looked down the road, where the Ark's lights were clearly visible, and then back at Hound. "I guess we're not in any hurry, right?" he asked with a smile.

"No, we're not." Hound stepped closer to Bluestreak and took his hand. "I just wanted to thank you for taking me to the car wash today." He glanced up at the stars, and then back at Bluestreak's smiling face. "I really had no idea what to expect. That wasn't anything that I would have done on my own, that's for sure," he said with a laugh. "But it was really relaxing, just like you said. And I think the last time my finish looked this good, we were back on Cybertron."

Bluestreak's smile widened slightly. "You do look really nice," he said. "And I'm glad you had a good time. I did too! It's fun doing new things with someone who's never gotten to try them out."

"I have to admit I've been staring at your aft the whole drive here," Hound said, smiling at Bluestreak's sudden wide-opticked look. "I couldn't help it. But... I don't think it had anything to do with the wash it just got." He ran his fingers gently down Bluestreak's face. "I'm going to kiss you now. If that's ok," he said.

Hound waited for Bluestreak to jerk his helm in a nod, then leaned in to kiss the Praxian.

To his happy surprise, Bluestreak was an amazing kisser. The mech certainly had some hidden talents.

A half mile away, at the entrance of the Ark, Sunstreaker frowned into the darkness. "Slag. There goes my ten dollars."

"What?" Sideswipe glanced at his brother, then peered out at the dimly-lit landscape. After a moment, he laughed. "Well, I was out months ago. How far off were you?"

Glowering, Sunstreaker said, "Three weeks. They both seemed totally oblivious."

Peering at the two mechs in the distance, Sideswipe said, "Well, it looks like they figured it out. I'll comm Smokescreen and let him know."

Sunstreaker shifted his grip on his rifle and continued watching the two mechs standing together in the darkness. Finally a smile flitted across his face. "Slag, Blue, let the mech come up for some air."

Sideswipe chuckled. "Still the same old Blue," he said. He tipped his helm towards his brother and added, "Smokescreen said it looks like Jazz won this one."

With a huff, Sunstreaker said, "Figures. He always wins these pools for some reason."


	8. Trying to Seduce One Another

Chapter 8: Trying to Seduce One Another (Or: Five Times Bluestreak and Hound Tried to Interface, and the Time They Finally Did)

The Ark itself was a large ship. Huge, in fact. But much of it was buried and unusable inside the mountain. Over time, the Autobots had slowly enlarged the living space available to them, but even then there was not a lot of space for so many mechs.

Finding time and space to be alone with someone for any length of time was, at best, an exercise in luck.

* * *

Slag.

The mech's hands were amazing, but it was what he could do with his lips that left Hound strutless.

Hound was just beginning to understand why so many mechs had been giving him thumbs up and jealous looks after he and Bluestreak had officially become an item, when the door to his quarters beeped and slid open.

Hound lurched to a sitting position, his fans running at full speed. He awkwardly knocked Bluestreak to the side, and they both stared at the large black mech who slowly walked through the doorway.

"Room lights, 50%," Trailbreaker said. He shuffled into the room a few steps before catching sight of the two mechs tangled together on Hound's berth. "Oh!" He stared at the two of them as they adjusted their optics to the sudden light, taking in their position and the roar of cooling fans. "Oh!" he said again. "Um..."

"Hi, Trailbreaker," Hound said, casually sliding his interface ports closed again and pulling all of his limbs back to himself. "I didn't think you were getting out of med bay today."

"Yeah, Ratchet said that I could heal up just as well in my own berth as in the med bay, so he kicked me out." He limped towards his own berth and sat on it heavily, then looked at the other two mechs uncertainly. "Sorry... I would have commed you if I'd... That is, if..."

"It's all right, Trailbreaker," Bluestreak said, his door wings waving gently behind him. "It's your room, too. And besides, you just got out of med bay." Bluestreak glanced at Hound, and the green mech could feel a slight bite of disappointment in the silver mech's field. "Did you want me to go?"

"No. Unless you want to." Trailbreaker still looked uncertain, but had relaxed a bit at Bluestreak's words. "I was just going to watch _Hillstreet Blues_ on our little set in here. No one ever wants to watch it in the rec room with me."

Bluestreak looked at Hound, who shrugged. "Sure. I've never watched it. What's it about?" Bluestreak asked.

Hound exvented quietly. It wasn't exactly what they had planned for tonight, but he didn't mind watching the show. He settled in next to Bluestreak.

* * *

Trying to sync both their schedules and finding times when one of their roommates was not around seemed almost impossible. Then Bluestreak had the idea to hide themselves away in one of the shuttles in the hanger. The Ark had one working shuttle, and several others that were too damaged to fly.

"They're just being used for parts. I know they've been trying to build one more working shuttle, but they need to take apart the more damaged ones to get enough parts to fix the one they're working on." Bluestreak ducked into the entrance of the shuttle on the far end of the hanger. He pushed aside a control panel that dangled from the ceiling near the door. "Come on. No one will see us here."

Hound looked around. Parts were strewn all over the floor of the shuttle, and wires hung from the walls and ceiling. On one side of the shuttle, a display had been torn out of the wall and the hull had been cut open, exposing the wall of the hanger just next to the shuttle. "Very romantic," Hound said with a smile.

Bluestreak laughed and walked towards the front of the shuttle. "The pilot's seat in this one's still intact." He spun around the seat and patted its cushioned surface. "Here. Sit down."

Hound sat in the cockpit's seat, and grinned as Bluestreak straddled his hips. "All right, I see where you're going with this," he said, looking up as the Praxian fanned his door wings over him.

"Do you?" Bluestreak purred. He brushed his lips down Hound's cheek and nibbled across the outer vent on Hound's helm. "I don't think you do."

"Then show me," Hound murmured, and wrapped his arms around Bluestreak's waist, pulling him down firmly into his lap.

A crash at the door of the shuttle made them both jump. "Ow!" They turned to see Wheeljack rubbing the top of his helm where he'd knocked it against the hanging control panel. The engineer peered into the shuttle and said, "Bluestreak? Oh, hi. What are you doing here? Were you in here looking for parts, too?"

"No." Bluestreak's door wings flicked once and he stood up. "We were just..."

"We were just looking around," Hound said, standing next to Bluestreak. "Um. Just trying to find someplace quiet."

"Oh." Wheeljack shifted his optics between the two. "I, uh, sort of needed to get the inducer coils out of the floor in this shuttle. We think they're in good enough shape to use in the rebuild. Um... I could come back later?" he asked.

Everyone knew how hard it was to find someplace to be alone sometimes.

"No, that's all right," Hound said. "I know it's really important to get another shuttle up and running in case something happens to the only one we have." He gave Bluestreak a little shrug. "We'll pop into the rec room to see if anything's going on there."

"If you want to come back in a few hours, I should be done by then!" Wheeljack called after them as they left and started for the hanger door.

When they were far enough away from the shuttle that Wheeljack couldn't hear, Hound exvented heavily. He said, "And I've got patrol in two hours." He brushed his fingers down Bluestreak's arm and grabbed at his hand. "We'll figure it out soon."

"I know," Bluestreak said, entwining his fingers with Hound's. "I'm going to make a point of making sure we do."

* * *

Finally. Finally! Hound lowered his firewalls with a wash of relief. Bluestreak's processor threads entwined with his as soon as the connection was established, and Hound bucked at the burst of sensation. [[It's been a hell of a wait, but this is so worth it.]] Hound knew his field was practically giddy.

Bluestreak smiled up at Hound. [[All right, pup. Time to see what you're capable of - ]]

Bluestreak's message was cut off as a claxon sounded on all frequencies.

"All hands to battle stations! Decepticons are approaching the base. This is not a drill. All hands to battle stations!" Red Alert's voice boomed urgently out of the comm system.

[[Are you slagging kidding me?]] Bluestreak growled audibly as he let his helm thump back onto the berth in his quarters. He looked up at Hound.

Hound shook his helm, equally unimpressed. [[This is unbelievable.]] He raised his firewalls and pulled his cords free of Bluestreak's interface ports.

They hurriedly disentangled themselves. "I am going to personally disassemble Megatron," Bluestreak snarled, his field burning with frustration. "Come on, let's go."

They ran to the entrance of the Ark to take up their positions.

Later, Hound reflected that perhaps having a frustrated Praxian on their side might be beneficial, considering that during the ensuing battle, Bluestreak managed to cripple four seekers with only three shots.

* * *

Tomorrow was supposed to be the day. Their day. The day they finally managed to interface, for real. Everything was perfectly arranged. Tracks was away in New York for an event with Optimus Prime, so Bluestreak would have his quarters all to himself for almost three whole days. And tomorrow they were both off duty.

What wasn't supposed to happen was Bluestreak getting caught in an explosion. Brawl had lobbed the device over the Autobots' defensive line, and it had landed right next to Bluestreak.

Hound had been across the battlefield, and had only heard Sunstreaker call out a warning. ::Prowl! Blue! Look out!::

A minute later, Prowl's voice had come over the comm lines. ::Ratchet, report to the rear defensive station immediately. Bluestreak has taken severe damage.::

Hound's lines had run cold.

The damage was extensive. A large chunk of shrapnel had taken Bluestreak's left leg off at the knee, and smaller chunks punched holes in various places around the rest of his frame. One piece had lodged next to his fuel pump, and it had taken Ratchet almost three hours to remove just that one piece without doing any further damage.

Now, Hound slumped in the chair next to Bluestreak's silent form in the med bay. His fingers brushed gently over the back of Bluestreak's hand as he looked at his...

Well, not his lover. Not yet, anyway. Hound blew a heavy gust of air out of his vents, and looked at his friend.

"He'll be fine, Hound." The green mech lifted his helm and looked up at First Aid. The medic checked something on a monitor and adjusted one of the lines attached to Bluestreak's frame. "He's coming along just fine. We'll bring him back online tomorrow, and you can talk to him then."

Hound nodded but didn't say anything.

Tomorrow. Tomorrrow was supposed to be their day. Instead, he held vigil next to Bluestreak's still frame.

* * *

"So Wheeljack said he should have my new leg done in two days, and after they reattach it, they can let me out of here! Just light duty at first, I guess, but that means I'll have extra days off." Bluestreak gave Hound a suggestive flick of his door wings. "Maybe we can finally find some time together that won't be interrupted by roommates or Deceptions or solar flares or anything else."

Hound squeezed Bluestreak's hand, and knew his field was giving him away. He couldn't help it. "Yeah. About that..."

"What is it?" Bluestreak said, his field suddenly anxious. His door wings sagged slightly. "I... Did you still want to try? I'm sorry things haven't been working out, but I want them to! Maybe there's something else we can –"

"Blue, shh," Hound said, smiling at the sorrowful Praxian. "It's ok. I want to make it work too. I'm not giving up."

"Oh!" Bluestreak's door wings raised again slightly. "Well, good. That's a relief." He tilted his helm. "Then what's wrong?"

Hound's engine whined. "I got tapped for a high-priority mission. Jazz and I are going to Siberia for two weeks." He frowned. "By the time we get back, you'll probably be back to full duty."

"I heard Jazz was going, but..." Bluestreak looked up at the ceiling of the med bay. "Primus. Two weeks." He looked at Hound and gave him a bitter smile. "I hope you understand that we finally manage to do this, I'm probably going to overload in about two seconds. This wait is killing me."

Hound laughed and bent over to kiss Bluestreak firmly. "Me too, Blue," he murmured, and his field swirled with longing.

* * *

Jazz flopped into the shuttle seat next to Hound. "Take us home, Sideswipe!" he called. The red mech tossed a half salute to the commander, already prepping the shuttle for launch.

The visored racer stretched. "I'm gonna call this mission 110% successful," he said. "Prowl is gonna be thrilled with the intel we collected."

"Good! I'm glad it was worth it," Hound said. He looked out the window as they took off, and his thoughts drifted back to Bluestreak. The Praxian should be back on regular duty by this time. Hound frowned as he wondered when their schedules and their private time would synch up again.

"Say, how're things goin' with you and Blue?" Jazz asked, kicking back in the seat.

"Good, I guess," Hound said. He kept his optics fixed on the landscape below.

"Just good?" Jazz shifted closer to Hound. "I was sure you two would hit it off like fireworks. I mean..." Hound looked up just in time to see the racer grin. "Blue's got a bit of a reputation for being a real artist in the berth."

"I wouldn't know," Hound said, his voice flat.

"What? Hold on now." Jazz leaned even closer, and Hound leaned away slightly, alarmed at Jazz's sudden intensity. "What's the deal? You two've been a thing for almost three months now, and I know neither of ya is shy about 'facin'."

Hound threw a hand in the air. "We'd love to 'face, but we just can't seem to find time alone. Prowl schedules us for a day off together a week, but it's like the whole universe has conspired against us. Roommates. Attacks. Injuries. Missions. We even tried finding someplace outside the Ark to be alone, but apparently two mechs sitting alone in the woods draws the attention of hikers like you wouldn't believe." He looked at Jazz, slightly embarrassed at his outburst. "We'll work it out eventually, I'm sure. We're both just really frustrated."

Jazz tapped a finger on his chin for a moment before answering. "Well, I would be, too." He was silent for another moment before chuckling. "Although, considerin' your relationship first got goin' because ya got blown off a cliff by a seeker, maybe you two are just bad luck magnets."

Hound started to laugh, then froze. "When I – how did you know that's when we first started..." Jazz was right, of course, but even Hound hadn't fully realized until very recently that's when he started thinking of Bluestreak as someone he'd like to get to know better.

Jazz flashed half his visor in a wink. "I just notice these things," he said, and settled back in the seat, offlining his visor completely.

Hound stared at the Special Ops commander for another moment before looking back out the window. He wondered what his fellow "bad luck magnet" was doing.

* * *

"Hound! I need ya to report to the med bay right away." Jazz jogged up to Hound in the hallway, his tone urgent.

"What? I'm not due for a maintenance check for another month," Hound said, trying to keep his irritation out of his field. He'd just finished filing his report from the mission and wanted to go find Bluestreak. Hound had commed him when they had arrived, but he hadn't been able to see the Praxian yet.

"No time to explain. Let's go!" Jazz hauled on his arm and led him towards the med bay.

Mystified, Hound allowed himself to be led into the med bay, where Ratchet was waiting. "Here's Hound for ya, Ratch," Jazz said, sketching a salute to the medic and then turning to leave. "As discussed."

Ratchet looked Hound over and pointed towards one of the private examination rooms. "In there," he said tersely. When Hound hesitated, he added, "Come on! I don't have all day."

Hound hurried into the examination room, but paused in the doorway when he saw Bluestreak sitting on the berth inside. The Praxian was swinging his legs idly, but stopped when he saw the green mech enter. "Hound! Welcome home!" he said, his face lighting up with a huge smile. He jumped to his pedes. "This is a surprise. I think I'm just here so Ratchet can do a final check on my new leg, but I guess you can stay to watch if you want."

"No," said Ratchet. Both mechs turned to look at the red and white medic. He smiled at them, a look that seemed odd on his normally serious face. "You've got this room for three hours. Totally private, and I've shut off the cameras." He stepped out and rested his hand on the door panel. "Per Jazz's orders, you're supposed to make the most of it." He held up a digit and added, "Have fun."

Then Ratchet closed the door.

The two mechs stared at each other. "Did he just..." Hound began.

"Are we supposed to..." Bluestreak said at the same time.

They stopped, looked at each other and laughed.

Bluestreak stepped towards Hound and took his hand. "I think we've been given a gift." He brought Hound's hand to his mouth and kissed it gently. He lifted a questioning brow ridge at Hound.

With a growl and a rev of his engine, Hound pushed Bluestreak back against the medical berth. "How many times do you think we can interface in three hours?" he asked, and pressed a kiss into the gap between Bluestreak's neck cords and shoulder armor.

"I don't know," Bluestreak gasped. "But I fully intend to find out."


	9. Doing Chores

Chapter 9: Doing Chores

Dust and grit got everywhere in the Ark.

It was a serious problem. Cybertron also had dust and grit, of course – the infamous rust storms were testament to how gritty the atmosphere on Cybertron could be – but the dust there did not have the same organic contaminants. Add in the high-oxygen and high-humidity environment of Earth, and the combination could be devastating.

Wheeljack and Perceptor had made air cleaners that were set up around the Ark in key locations: the control room, the rec room, the hanger, and most importantly the medical bay. But they had to run constantly, and if one of them broke down it was an emergency. Resources being what they were, the Autobots could only manage to run those four air cleaners at once.

That meant the rest of the Ark would get dusty, and fast. And of all the duties that the Autobots detested, cleaning dust from the ventilation shafts was the worst.

No one liked doing it. Being assigned to dust a room or a set of hallways was one thing, but cleaning the ventilation shafts was an objectively horrible job. It took forever, it was cramped and hot, and when you were done you had to spend a good hour in the wash rack getting all of the dust off yourself and fixing up the scrapes you'd gotten on your finish from crawling through the shafts.

It was such a hated chore that even the officers took turns on the duty cycle for it. Although Optimus had difficulty fitting into the smaller shafts, he still routinely took his turn on what everyone considered to be the worst job on the Ark. It was only fair.

Then, Hound and Bluestreak were assigned to the task together.

"What are you two smiling about?" Sideswipe asked Bluestreak and Hound. He was just leaving the wash rack after coming back from patrol, and the two mechs entering the racks had wide, goofy grins on their faces.

"Nothing. Just finished dusting the ventilation shafts," Bluestreak said, his door wings wavering in the air behind him.

"Aww, slag. It was your turn, huh?" Sideswipe asked. "That's tough. Oh well, better you than me," he added with a laugh.

A few days later, Prowl was cycling his optics and stared at the two mechs in front of him. "You want to... **volunteer** to dust the ventilation shafts?" he asked, an incredulous tone edging into his voice.

Hound nodded. "Yes, sir. It needs to be done, what - once a month? We'll do it."

Prowl looked between them again, then called up the duty roster. "Very well. I have added you to the schedule for next month as well." He set down his data pad. "Can I ask why you are volunteering?"

"Well, once we got to it, it was kind of fun," Bluestreak said. He glanced at Hound and grinned. "I mean, if you approach it like a game, it makes the time go faster, and you don't mind how dusty you get. Have you ever played Pacman? It's the same idea."

"Pacman," Prowl repeated.

"I'm pretty sure Wheeljack got a port of the game for the system in the rec room if you wanted to try it out," Bluestreak said. "You really should give it a shot, because it's lots of fun. Anyway, you said you've got us on the schedule? That's great, Prowl, thanks so much!"

"You're... welcome?" Prowl said as the two mechs left his office. He shook his helm and got back to his work.

A few months later, Cliffjumper and Bumblebee cornered Hound in the rec room. "Ok, spill it," Cliffjumper said. "Why have you and Bluestreak been on shaft duty for three months? What the frag did you guys do to deserve that?"

Hound shrugged and smiled. "We volunteered."

"You volunteered?" Bumblebee said loudly and incredulously, causing a few mechs looked up from a nearby table. "Why?"

"It's not so bad," Hound said, grabbing his cube of energon from the dispenser. "If you go into it with the right mindset, it's actually kind of fun."

"Fun. Shaft duty. Fun." Cliffjumper stared at Hound as though he'd grown a set of wings and become a Seeker. He shook his helm. "Are you glitched?"

"Nope," said Hound as he walked away. "I just found a way to be happy with my work."

* * *

Bluestreak turned off the dust extractor as Hound approached him from the other direction. "All done?" he asked.

"All done," Hound said, setting down his own equipment and crawling the rest of the way to Bluestreak.

Reaching out a hand, Bluestreak rubbed a smear of dust off of Hound's face. "You must have gotten into a really bad spot," he said.

"Yeah, I think it was over Wheeljack's lab," Hound said, rising to his knees and wrapping Bluestreak in his arms. He pressed his lips to the crest in the center of Bluestreak's chevron. "Maybe I'll let you do that part next time," he murmured.

"It's only fair," Bluestreak said, digging his fingers into one of Hound's transformation seams and smiling at the green mech's sudden intake of air.

"They're going to figure out why we want to be up here eventually," Hound said, nibbling along Bluestreak's jaw.

Bluestreak laughed. "Well, then let's make the most of it before everyone wants a turn up here," he murmured, gently pushing Hound onto his back and covering him with kisses.


	10. Falling in Love

Chapter 10: Falling in Love

Hound wasn't sure when it happened. Then, once he realized that it **had** happened, he didn't know what to do about it.

Should he tell him? Would he take it wrong? Did he feel the same way?

Hound's spark fluttered just thinking about it.

He watched as the Praxian perched on the edge of the couch, his fingers flying over one of the large control pads that Wheeljack had made for the Autobots. Sideswipe had the other controller, and they were going one-on-one in some kind of fighting game.

Bluestreak tilted the control pad, his glossa sticking out slightly between his lips. He mashed the buttons furiously, his attention laser-focused on the screen. Hound watched him, captivated.

Suddenly Bluestreak gave a victory shout and threw a fist into the air, his door wings flaring outward. "Yes! I told you I could do that combo, Sideswipe!"

Sideswipe shook his helm. "That was complete and utter slag. You should never have been able to get that off," he grumbled. "Best two out of three?"

Bluestreak glanced at Hound, and smiled. Hound felt the flutter in his spark again. Looking back at Sideswipe, Bluestreak set down his control pad. "Nah. I promised Hound we'd go for a drive. Maybe next time."

Sideswipe tossed his control pad on the table and made a little pout. "Aww. All right, fine. But you owe me a rematch!"

Bluestreak waved his hand in agreement, then reached out to take Hound's. "Let's go," he said with a smile and a flutter of his door wings.

Hound's spark fluttered right along.

The drive was leisurely, and they drove mostly in silence. Even though they had not discussed the destination ahead of time, they both took the road to the hidden lake in the hills behind the Ark. It was a popular spot for Autobots who were off duty.

As they emerged from the trees, Hound was pleased to see that no other mechs were there. Bluestreak transformed into root mode and settled on their favourite spot, a grassy hill overlooking the lake.

The Praxian lay back in the grass and stretched indolently. His door wings flattened against the grass, and he pulled every cable in his frame taut as he flexed his pedes and fingers in opposite directions. His plating gaped open at the seams as he worked the tightness out of his struts.

Settling down in the grass next to him, Hound rested on his elbow, propping his helm up with a hand. He watched Bluestreak, taking in the way his optics squeezed shut blissfully when he got the stretch **just** right. Finally Bluestreak relaxed, and rolled his helm to the side to look at Hound. After a moment he asked, "All right, what is it? You've been staring at me all day with this funny little smile on your face."

"I just like looking at you." He reached a hand out and rested it on Bluestreak's chest plate. "I like seeing you relax like this. I like spending time with you."

Rolling on his side and mimicking Hound's pose, Bluestreak rested his own helm on his hand, propped up on an elbow. "I like spending time with you, too," he said. With a grin, he added, "And I can trade sweet little nothings with you all day if you want."

Hound laughed a little.

He felt the flutter in his spark again.

He wanted to tell him.

But what he wanted to say was a lot more than a sweet little nothing.

A slight frown crossed Bluestreak's face as Hound's expression became serious. "What is it, pup?" he asked.

Flutter.

"I love you," Hound said.

Bluestreak didn't react. He just looked at Hound with a blank expression.

Hound's spark lurched and drew in on itself.

After a moment of silence, Hound sat up, resting his arms on his bent knees as he looked out over the placid lake. "I'm sorry," Hound said quietly.

"For what?"

Hound turned and looked at Bluestreak. The Praxian's expression was still blank, and his door wings were still. "I'm sorry for... I'm sorry if you weren't ready to hear that." He looked back at the lake.

Another minute of silence passed.

Hound heard Bluestreak sit up, and felt his arms go around him. Bluestreak rested his helm against Hound's shoulder. "It's not that I wasn't ready to hear it," he said quietly. "It's that I never thought that I **would** hear it."

Hound pulled back slightly so he could look at Bluestreak. The red and silver mech's optics were solemn, holding none of their usual cheer. Instead, Hound could see flickers of the ghosts that he knew lived with Bluestreak every day. "Never?" Hound asked, feeling dumb. "Why?"

His optics flicking away from Hound's, Bluestreak quietly said, "How can you love someone this broken?"

"Blue... Blue, listen to me." Hound put a hand on Bluestreak's cheek, gently turning his face so he could look into his optics again. "You are the most amazing mech I've ever had the pleasure of knowing," he said firmly. "You are talented. You have a great sense of humour. You take delight in ordinary things. You face every day with an optimism that I don't think I could ever muster if I'd been through what you have." He let his helm fall forward to rest his forehelm on Bluestreak's chevron. "You bring joy into my existence every single day, and I love you for it."

As he spoke, Hound could feel Bluestreak's field flowing around him, unrestrained and unfiltered. Disbelief. Sadness. Doubt. Then... Like the sun rising in the morning, there was a beam of gratitude that washed over everything and lit his aura with affection.

Bluestreak's vocalizer buzzed with quiet static, and he switched to comms. ::Hound, I... I don't know what to say.::

"Don't say anything, Blue," Hound murmured, tracing his thumb over Bluestreak's helm vent. He gently pressed his lips against Bluestreak's, then smiled at him again. "You don't have to say anything. I'm not expecting you to feel the same. I just wanted to tell you how I felt."

Exventing softly, Bluestreak finally got his vocalizer under control. "You know me. I have to say something," he said with a little laugh. "So... Thank you." He rested his helm against Hound's shoulder and curled into his embrace. "Thank you so much."

They stayed there until the last rays of the sun lit the trees around them like towers of flame.


	11. Pillow Talk

Chapter 11: Pillow Talk

As the roar of their cooling fans filled the hab suite with white noise, drowning out the sound of the _Lost Light's_ engines, Hound stared up at the ceiling. "Yup," he said once his core temperature had fallen slightly. "I had totally forgotten that you were able to do that. Still has the same effect on me, too."

Bluestreak laughed and rolled onto his side, propping his helm up with his hand. "I should write a book," he said, grinning. "I could call it _Bluestreak's Interfacing Tips and Techniques_." He traced his fingers across Hound's chest.

Hound caught Bluestreak's hand and brought it to his lips. "I'm sure it would be a best seller. I'd buy a copy," he said. "I'd even write the forward for it."

Giggling, Bluestreak asked, "Oh? And what would the forward say?"

With a hum, Hound thought for a moment. "While Bluestreak will never be considered a mech of few words, it's what else he can do with his lips that will make him famous across the galaxy," he recited. As Bluestreak began to laugh, Hound continued, "And even while his mouth is busy making sure you know exactly what he thinks of your frame, his digits will continue to speak to you in chirolinguistics."

"Hound!" Bluestreak said, throwing his helm back in laughter.

Grinning up at Bluestreak, Hound said, "Am I wrong? Because I am sure you were speaking to me in tongues and in digits."

Their laughter filled the hab suite.

After their giggles faded, Bluestreak pulled himself closer to Hound. Nestling himself against Hound's side, his helm on the four-by-four's shoulder, Bluestreak said, "I still don't understand why we let this get away from us."

Hound shrugged. "Time. Distance." His optics dimmed momentarily. "War." He raised a hand and brushed it down the side of Bluestreak's helm, gently tracing the outline of his audial, his helm vent, his chin. "Duty." He let his hand fall back onto his chest. "Believe me, it wasn't on purpose."

"Same here," said Bluestreak, rolling slightly so he was half laying on top of Hound. He pillowed his chin on his hands, staring into Hound's optics. "So my question now is: how do we make sure it doesn't get away from us again?"

Hound stared at Bluestreak. He opened his mouth, then closed it and glanced away.

His lips twitching into a smile, Bluestreak poked Hound's cheek with a single digit. "Hey. Come on. What were you going to say?"

The green mech frowned. "Nothing. Just thinking. It was silly."

"Oh, no you don't. I know that look." Bluestreak sat up and swung a leg over Hound's frame until he was straddling the green mech. He put his hands on Hound's shoulders and brought his face down close to his lover's. "Spill it, pup," he said with a grin.

Hound blew out a vent of air and said, "I just thought... It was... I don't want to make you uncomfortable... I mean..." When Bluestreak drummed his fingers against Hound's shoulder armor, he blurted out, "I was thinking that we could become conjunx endurae."

They both went still.

After a moment, Hound rolled his helm to the side and closed his optics. "Yeah. See? I'm sorry. I didn't want to make you feel –"

"Yes."

"What?" Hound opened his optics and looked up at Bluestreak.

The Praxian was smiling down at Hound, his optics gleaming a rich blue in the dim light of the hab suite. "Sure. I mean, I do. Or whatever I'm supposed to say to indicate yes." Bluestreak laughed quietly. "I'm not sure how it works, you know? I never expected..."

Hauling himself to a sitting position, Hound gripped Bluestreak's upper arms and looked at him intently. "No. Wait. Are you sure? Me?"

Bluestreak nodded, his smile growing slightly. "I'm sure." He rested his hands on Hound's waist. "Honest. Are **you** sure?"

"Yes." Hound's optics darted all over Bluestreak's face as if trying to memorize the Praxian's expression in this moment. Then he said, "I wanted to ask you earlier. You know, before. On Earth. But there was never a right moment and then... Time got away from me and..." He exvented. "I don't think I could forgive myself if I let this moment slip away without asking."

Leaning forward top rest his helm against Hound's, Bluestreak smiled. "I love you, Hound," he said. "And I never want to lose sight of you again."


End file.
